


mineshafts and masks and the kids who need them

by verecundiam



Series: kept promises [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, a few serious moments because I have to have a character study, but it’s quite a few shenanigans, dream and techno are dumb teenagers and I love it, no beta we get pickaxes put through our teeth, nothing too graphic, rivalstwt has my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verecundiam/pseuds/verecundiam
Summary: “Hey, what’s up?”Technoblade nearly jumps out of his skin, and also nearly skewers Dream with his sword. Dream, for his credit, neatly swings to the side, and avoids the blade entirely.He apparently thought it was a great idea to pop out of a tree, hanging upside-down by his legs from a branch. Techno’s pretty sure he should just stab him and get it over with.Unfortunately, this is his sworn rival, so... no permanent stabbing. It’s no fun that way.(Or: Techno and Dream on one of their many misadventures, this time into an abandoned mineshaft. Within thekept promisesstoryline, but can be read on its own.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: kept promises [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039066
Comments: 30
Kudos: 288





	mineshafts and masks and the kids who need them

**Author's Note:**

> Techno and Dream are around 16-17 here, before either of them have left home, but getting close to it

“Hey, what’s up?”

Technoblade nearly jumps out of his skin, and also nearly skewers Dream with his sword. Dream, for his credit, neatly swings to the side, and avoids the blade entirely. 

He apparently thought it was a great idea to pop out of a tree, hanging upside-down by his legs from a branch. Techno’s pretty sure he should just stab him and get it over with. 

Unfortunately, this is his sworn rival, so... no permanent stabbing. It’s no fun that way. 

He hadn’t even told Techno he was coming! It’s a week-long trek from Dream’s ruins to Techno and his family’s house, full of mobs and hills and dark forests and all sorts of nasty things. Surprises just don’t work that way. 

Nevertheless, Dream is here, and Techno’s certain that he’s all proud of himself underneath the mask. 

“Never, ever do that again. I won’t miss next time.” 

“Sureeeee,” Dream teases, so Techno does the only reasonable thing and kicks the tree trunk with all of his might—shaking the tree nearly enough to send Dream careening to the ground. Dream’s balance isn’t quite that bad, of course, but the entertaining part is the sheer terror Techno induces on him for a quick second. Take that. 

“Rude,” Dream mutters, after regaining his composure. 

“Oh, yeah, because sneaking up on a guy that’s just trying to feed his family isn’t rude at all,” Techno retorts. 

“You were practicing archery, though? Not hunting or farming?” 

“So you were spying on me too, eh?”

“I gotta do what I gotta do,” Dream laughs.

“Fair enough,” Techno shrugs, because it’s not like he’s not done his own fair share of espionage. “What’re you here for? Did ya bring the whole crew?”

“Nope, just me, and uhhhhh I have a proposition.” Dream flips up and over the tree branch, landing lightly on the grass like a cat. Show-off. 

“That sounds terrible.”

“It will be, but I thought, hey, this is exactly the kind of terrible that Technoblade would love.” Dream leans back against the tree. 

“So you walked all the way out here? What if I say no?” Techno raises an eyebrow skeptically, which he’s pretty sure is obvious even behind his usual piglin mask. 

“You won’t. And it’s closer to your place than mine, anyway.” Dream shrugs, seemingly nonchalant, but the way his foot taps against the tree trunk betrays either excitement, or anxiety. Techno’s more tempted to think the former, but really, it’s probably both. 

“Okay… and?” He gestures for Dream to continue, unwilling to say yes or no until he gets a least a little bit of context. 

“Well. I was practicing for the manhunt in a few weeks. Running, parkour type stuff, some falling, that sort of thing.”

“As you do.”

“As you do. And I came across something very interesting.” Dream clasps his hands together conspiratorially. “An abandoned mineshaft—completely underground, completely undiscovered.”

“Oh?” Oh indeed. 

“If my people get ahold of it first, Sapnap’s just going to raze it to the ground, and that’s no fun. George’ll get us lost, and Bad’s not really one for exploration like this. If your people get there first…”

“Tommy’s going to rush in and get himself horribly injured,” Techno sighs. “The mines are too narrow for Phil’s wings, and Wilbur could literally care less.”

“Which leaves us, if we want to avoid all that.” Dream shrugs. “I think it could be fun.”

It could. 

It’s a terrible idea, of course, but at least Dream knows that already. 

They could get poisoned. Bitten. Stabbed. Shot. The rickety planks could just fall underneath their feet, and they could go tumbling to the ground below, breaking all their limbs, or burning to a crisp in an inconvenient lava pool. 

Or they could explore, which is always a tempting prospect. Could fight side-by side, for whatever that’s worth. There’s probably a good amount of iron in there too—always helpful. 

“Oh! And I was thinking,” Dream adds, “there might be saddles and horse armor in there, if you’re interested…”

And just like that, Dream’s got him. He’s in. For better or worse.

A horse would be awesome, frankly. 

“When do we leave?”

Dream springs up, excitement clear. “As soon as we can! I’ve brought a ton of supplies but you probably need to pack too, so whenever! It’s a two-day hike, easy-peasy.”

“‘Kay. See you in a sec.”

\------------

“Spooky,” Techno comments, as they arrive at the cave opening without much fanfare. It gapes at the two of them like a maw, stalactites and mites collected like teeth. The faint groan of a zombie filters up through the darkness. 

“Scared?” Dream hands him a burning torch. 

“Never,” Techno snorts, and he strolls into the cave. 

\------------

Dream easily leads him to the crack in the cavern wall where the narrow passageways of the mineshaft begin, held up by rickety wooden frames. The shattered and decayed remains of minecart tracks litter the ground, and it forces Techno to watch his step, because there’s no way he’s tripping over anything today. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Dream gestures grandly. 

“I… don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean—“

“Okay, okay, I thought it sounded dramatic—“

“But you don’t even live here?“

“Okay! Moving on!” Dream pushes past him to march into the inky darkness of the tunnel ahead, and Techno holds back a chuckle. 

\------------

The only sound is the _chink, chink, chink_ of his pickaxe against stone. It echoes oddly, reflected back at him by the narrow tunnels. He can feel Dream at his back, and knows he’s holding his axe loosely in one hand, that every small, slight sound is just as much a beacon to him as it is to Techno. 

_Chink, chink, chink,_ then a satisfying _clang_ as Techno’s pickaxe slams into the iron vein. He picks as many chunks as he can out of the stone, before returning to Dream’s side and nodding. 

Dream doesn’t say anything, just nods back, and when they come across a small lapis vein next, Dream is the one with the pickaxe, and Techno is the one standing guard. It’s a system, one they didn’t really agree on so much as just… started doing. 

It’s quiet. The two of them tend to chatter when they’re sparring, taunts and tips and exclamations of defeat or victory. 

A heavy, tunnel-vision kind of focus has settled itself over Techno, though, and he forgot that there was anything there but ore and chests of old wheat seeds and faintly-lit darkness and Dream. It’s a familiar feeling, and if he tries, it becomes more of a deja-vu kind of thing—he can almost feel the hoe in his hands, roots in his scraped-up fingers, dirt under his nails that he can never really wash away. 

But for all this is normal for him, Dream’s a lot—well—Dream’s a lot brighter, a lot more sunshiney of a person, for all that he’s wary and kinda jumpy and suspicious of the world as a whole. Techno’s never seen his blinding smile, but the fact that he knows it’s there anyway says a lot about just how brilliantly bright the guy can be. So the fact that the same quiet, weighted focus that Techno knows so well settles over Dream’s shoulders is… a surprise. They haven’t spoken in… hours, probably. 

(He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He knows Dream, knows his moves and whiplash-moods and heavy determination and the kind of stubbornness that he learned from an older brother, years ago. He might know Dream better than anyone he’s ever known, because you don’t fight someone like that without knowing them deeper than you ever meant to, without understanding each other as best as anyone can, whether you want to or not. So Techno shouldn’t be surprised, but he is, because another thing he knows about Dream is that he’s the only person that can surprise him.) 

\------------

Techno, ears full of _chink, chink, clang,_ doesn’t notice the creeper until it’s already dead. Dream’s axe has sliced almost completely through its leathery green neck, and Dream just gestures for Techno to keep mining as he yanks it out. There’s no blood, just gunpowder that runs from the slash like sand from a cut-open bag. 

\------------

They’ve got an arrogance to the two of them, it’s true. In sharp smiles and bets and increasingly impossible odds, _I can do this, bet you can’t, look at what I’ve done, isn’t it incredible?_

Can you really call it arrogance if it’s true? If it’s well-founded? Because Technoblade really did win nineteen consecutive tournaments at the age of fourteen, and Dream really has defeated Sapnap, George, and Bad all at the same time at least once. When Techno and Dream spar, it really is something incredible. So is it arrogance?

Did the old heroes think the same way? Did Icarus think—it’s not hubris if I know I’m going to be fine? How sure was Bellerophon that he would be a god? Did Arachne think—is it really hubris, is it really arrogance, if I am the better weaver?

Technoblade is the better weaver. He knows it as sure as he knows the calluses on his palms and fingertips, as sure as he knows that his tapestry of blood-edged diamond is as beautiful as it gets. 

(Still, Arachne was brought low.)

\------------

Neither of them brought a clock—an oversight on their part, oh well—so Techno only realizes it’s time to stop when he finally trips over an old minecart rail, and Dream doesn’t even notice. 

Technoblade’s not great at the passage of time. Sometimes a second feels like an hour and days fly by in a scant few minutes, so who’s to say how long they’ve been down here. But exhaustion weighs heavy on his bones— _your poor young bones,_ the Phil in his head teases, and Techno mentally tells him to _shut up_ —so it has to have been… a long time. Probably too long. 

He taps Dream on the shoulder to get his attention, and just mutters, “You tired?” 

“No,” Dream shakes his head, then stops. Shakes his head again. “Wait, actually yes. Oh wow.” 

Techno snickers. “Any idea how long we’ve been down here?”

“Not at all. I’m digging us an alcove or something. Wow. Okay.” Dream pulls out his pickaxe, and sways a little with the weight. Techno can relate.

“Don’t pass out while you do it, man.” 

“Nah, nah, I’m good. You don’t pass out while watching my back.”

“No guarantees. Might just decide to die on the spot.”

“If you die, I’m coming down with you,” Dream laughs, and maybe it’s meant to be a joke, and maybe Techno’s just way too tired for this, but there’s still dried and rotten blood on the edge of Dream’s axe where he shoved it through the neck of a zombie that went for Techno’s back, and Techno’s hand still has splinters in it from when he pulled them both up back onto a bridge that had been just a bit too rickety, and… he… doesn’t even know where he’s going with this. 

It just…

Just feels true, is all. 

\------------

There’s a shaky kind of energy to Dream when Techno ducks into their newly-dug alcove, stacking up stone behind him to block off most of the entrance. 

Dream looks at him for a long second, after he sparks up their campfire. Techno just raises a brow. 

“Okay. I’m gonna—I’m gonna do something.” And Dream reaches back behind his head and unclasps the mask over his face before Techno can reach out to stop him, or—or say something, or do anything, really.

“I want to,” Dream seems to sense his unease, and half-shrugs. “Just had to do it quick, or I’d psych myself out or something. I think it’s—I dunno, it’s important. I want to.” He gently sets the mask down on the stone ground. 

Techno glances up, and he’s—he’s both surprised, and not surprised at all. Thin, pale scars crisscross the entire mangled left side of Dream’s face, nearly unrecognizable to the other half. But his eyes are grass-green, bright in the firelight, and cheerful freckles trace his unmarred skin. 

“Yikes,” Techno says flatly, because if there’s any way to ruin a moment, he’s going to find it. It’s his specialty. 

And he gets to see Dream’s full expression as his eyes widen, and then he _wheezes_ with laughter, nearly on the floor. (Techno will deny with ferocity that he laughed along with him, but Dream’s laugh is contagious, alright. Sue him.) 

“How’d you get those?” He asks nonchalantly once Dream can breathe again. 

“Zombies, if you can believe it.” 

“Awww, c’mon. It wasn’t a dragon? Now I’m just disappointed.” 

“Pfft, okay, I see how it is.”

“See—“ Okay. This is fine. This will, in fact, be completely and totally and utterly fine, and will not end in any kind of natural disaster or death. Techno pulls his own piglin mask off of his face, as casually as he can manage, and gestures to where he knows the thick, knotted slash scar reaches from his jawline to across his nose. “I think I win.”

“Oh please,” Dream laughs, “What gave you that? An angry cow?”

“Close,” Techno grins. “Hoglin, actually.”

“Oof, those things are nasty,” Dream winces. “I—wait, how old were you?”

“Six.”

“Dangit!”

Techno chuckles. “Oh? How old were you?”

“Nine,” he sighs.

“Ha ha. Bet you couldn’t have taken a hoglin to the face even at nine.”

“Hey!” Dream sputters, “I totally could’ve! I just didn’t have, like, access to a portal!”

“Only weaklings are born in the Overworld,” Techno claims with a sly grin. 

“Oh, sure, tell me that next winter,” Dream snorts. 

“Low blow, tree boy.”

“Oh no!” Dream falls backward, his hand on his forehead. “My only weakness! Name-calling! I’ll never recover!”

“Now this is just embarrassing.”

“Nooooooooooo—“

“Oh wow.”

“—oooooooooooo—“

“Remind me why I associate with you, again?”

“—ooooooooo because I’m just that great?”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will! Thanks!”

\------------

Techno blinks. Everything lightly aches, like he’s sore. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the disorientation still fogging it, and forces himself to sit up straight. 

Oh yeeeaaahhhh. Dream. Mineshaft. Dramatics. Et cetera. 

He reaches up to rub at his eyes—he doesn’t remember falling asleep, but there’s really no other explanation here—and jolts when he doesn’t find his mask in the way. He definitely does _not_ panic for a second before he spots it, faded pink in the gray light, the campfire long since reduced to coals and ash. He slips it on. 

Next to it is the scuffed white paint and wobbly smile of Dream’s mask. 

Right. Dream. 

The rival in question is slumped against the stone wall, arms crossed, still asleep. Techno scoots back over and pokes him in the shoulder. Hard. Dream startles awake, badly enough that Techno almost regrets it, but quickly retracts the feeling when he remembers exactly how this adventure started. 

When Dream lets out an exasperated and slightly relieved huff—he’s shockingly expressive, it’s a little jarring to be able to see it—Techno just holds out the white mask without a word. Dream takes it and clasps it on, and there’s almost a palpable shift in the air, in that comfortable return to familiarity for them both. 

Dream mutters something under his breath about sleeping on rocks, and Techno laughs at him like he’s not just as regretful, and together they shove the cobblestone blocking off their shelter out of the way, opening up the mineshaft. Dream turns to look at him, as if to say, _you ready?_ Techno exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, and pushes forward. 

Onward ho, or whatever. 

\------------

“Bet you I’ll find the next iron vein first.”

“You’re on.”

\------------

“There’s no way there’s anything else in this passage. Let’s just move on.”

“Oh yeah? Watch this.”

“...Huh. Nice.”

\------------

“Think I could climb that? And like, hop across the planks?”

“You’re gonna break your legs.”

“At least I’ll be happy while I do it.”

\------------

“Wanna bet I can throw my sword through that skeleton’s ribcage and into that zombie?”

“You’re a genius. Do it.”

\------------

It’s been a while since they’ve seen anything worth taking or mining, so for now they’re walking. Exploring. 

He glances ahead at Dream. 

Techno’s family is less human than most. Or maybe more than human? Who knows. But it’s why they’re so far from any civilization, why their only neighbors are hours away. (Besides a natural tendency towards adventure, of course, courtesy of being raised by Philza.)

It’s most obvious in Phil, with his great gray wings, forcing them to build widened doorways and heightened ceilings. It’s in how he’s light, too, almost frighteningly so—he’s so careful with falling and being thrown. He’s never mentioned it outright, but Techno’s almost sure that his bones are hollow, like a bird’s, frail and fragile and _wrong_ compared to just how strong Techno knows that his father is. 

Techno’s ears fold over and his eyes are a brilliant crimson, his teeth grow sharp and long, his hair is just— just pink like this, it’s just how it is, it’s not dye. It’s literally just pink. He hates, hates, hates the cold, and fire glances off his skin without so much as a light burn. He could run and fight and work for days and days on end if he wanted to. It nearly kills him, every time, but he can. He can. 

And you’d think that Wilbur is human, too—and maybe he is, technically, but that doesn’t explain the sharpness lacing his smile alongside the softness in his dark eyes, the way that when he talks you _have_ to listen. Wilbur can whisper louder than Techno can scream. 

Tommy—Tommy, all brilliant fury and striking compassion—is fully and completely human, probably, and that in and of itself is unique. The sheer humanity in him and his friend Tubbo is a sight to see, despite Tommy’s odd little family and Tubbo’s siblings with their two-toned hair and glowing eyes. 

Dream’s own family—because Techno’s not blind, that’s what they are—well, he’d assumed they were… mostly human. Except Bad, obviously, with all his darkness and light. 

He’s not so sure, now, watching Dream flit in and out of the shadows of the mines, not even the echo of his footsteps making a sound. He’s not so sure.

\------------

“Don’t be a muffin, c’mon.” Dream pulls at his sleeve, dragging him towards one of the more precarious ledges. 

“Fine, fine, I’m coming—uh—don’t be a what now?”

“What?” 

“Don’t be a—a what?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I—okay.”

\------------

“Whaddaya think about a double axehead? I think that could be neat.”

“I think it’s stupid, and it’ll mess up the weight distribution _so much_. Your speedy technique will never recover.”

“You say that like yours wouldn’t totally benefit more from like, a hammer or something. Not a war hammer, an actual one. Something with a more focused point than a sword. Recently started looking into hammers, actually. Those things can punch through iron armor without much issue.”

“Don’t like shields. Need something I can parry with _and_ attack with, hence, two-handed sword.”

“Shields are amazing, you’re an idiot.” 

“Shields are clumsy, more like. You barely use yours, anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m, as you said, speedy. You’re not speedy. You could totally take advantage of a shield.”

“The strength behind my attacks will be _halved_. I can’t afford that.”

“The extra defense, though.”

“You and your defense. I’m shocked you get around to attacking at all.”

“The best offense is a good defense!”

“Isn’t it the other way around?”

“Nope.”

“It definitely is.”

“Then I’m changing it.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It is now.”

\------------

There’s a chest. 

It’s been a while since they’ve seen a chest. It’s mostly been ores and ores and more ores, which is obviously great, but you can get those anywhere. Mineshafts are supposed to be, y’know, special, but all they’ve got to show for it are a few golden apples and a lot of useless seeds. 

But. 

There’s another chest. And this one’s promising!

...Mostly because it’s almost completely buried in a cave spider nest. 

They’ve avoided any nests until now. Techno hasn’t actually been bitten by one of those things before, and certainly doesn’t plan on it now, and Dream had been thinking along a similar line. 

But now there’s the possibility of actually good loot. Saddles, horse armor, all the things that you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else, unless you were out exploring far and wide and whatever. 

Techno puts his hand on the pommel of his sword, and tilts his head to glance at Dream. His axe is already in his hand. 

_Let’s go,_ Techno doesn’t say, but they go anyway. 

It’s natural for Technoblade to go first, because his sword slices through the cobwebs easier than breathing. And it’s natural for Dream to lash out, quicker than most people can blink, into the gaps in the webs for the leaping, many-legged spiders that aim for the intruders in their midst. 

It’s graceful and it’s clumsy all at once, because Techno’s not meant for fighting in tight spaces and Dream can’t use any of the tight spaces to his advantage like he normally would, but the silk trailing from his sword and cape and the ravaged, wounded hisses of spiders around him is the music and rhythm to whatever dance this is supposed to be. 

A spider gets too close and it tears into his sleeve with a hooked leg before Dream slices it in half. Dream stumbles over a web, and Techno runs a few spiders through as Dream regains his balance—and with that, the deadly, arcing curve of his axe beheads a spider aiming right for Techno’s neck.

They push forward. 

There’s more of them. It’s a horde, now, and Dream takes out his shield, starts using it like a barricade in the narrow passageway, his axe still a gleaming flash in their meager torchlight. 

All Techno can hear now is diamond on flesh and silk, screeching and hissing and the chittering of mandibles, the dripping of venom onto wood and web. The sounds conglomerate into a single mass of _danger-danger-protect-danger-go-go-gogogogogogo_ in his head, and all that matters is his sword in his hands, Dream against his back, and the chest at the end of the passageway. 

\------------

He heaves a heavy breath as Dream shoves the final bit of cobblestone into place, blocking the spider nest off from the rest of the passageway. 

Techno lurches forward, clumsier than he would’ve liked, but who cares. He ignores his stinging arm and trembling fingers and fumbles with the latch of the chest for a bit. He manages to open it, creaking with age and dust and rusted hinges. 

Jackpot. Two saddles and one set of iron horse armor. Among… one gold ingot for some reason, three pieces of coal, a minecart, and absolutely no seeds. 

Techno, unable to form words at the moment, just holds up the prizes in his arms to Dream, leaning against one of the wooden posts. 

“Woohoo,” Dream cheers, weakly, and Techno laughs under his breath as he turns away to place everything in his bag. 

There’s a muffled curse and a small thump and a sharp intake of breath, and Techno’s whipping around to see Dream on the floor. 

“Hey, uh—” Techno starts, rushing over to his side, hands fluttering kind of helplessly. 

Dream curses under his breath again. He breathes, and it is shallow and shuddering and, quite frankly, terrifying. “Honey in my bag, honey in my bag,” he manages, and oh, right, cave spiders, venom, things that remove toxins, milk and honey, okay, this is something that Techno can do.

He rummages through Dream’s pack of supplies, extra food, water bottles, ore that they’ve collected, and finally finds somewhere at the bottom a bottle of honey. He pulls the cork out of that thing with all the strength he can manage and shoves it at Dream, who practically rips off his mask and takes it with fumbling hands. 

He’s frighteningly pale and his eyelids are fluttering dangerously, so Techno says, “Where is it?”

“Mm?”

“The injury.”

“On your arm.”

“Your injury, idiot.”

“Oh. Uh. Calf?”

Sure enough, on Dream’s left calf, the pants are shredded where a small, sluggishly-bleeding bite mark is slowly turning a sickly blackish-green. The spread of the discoloration seems to be slowing, though, so the honey is doing its job. 

“You need to get stitches on that arm,” Dream murmurs. 

“You need to get your head on straight,” Techno retorts, but he sits down next to him against the wall, only glancing over at Dream when he needs to—just to make sure he’s still awake, just to check if he’s still pale like that, scars standing out like fresh and bloody slashes on his skin, mingling with the freckles. 

He takes a roll of bandages out of his own bag, and starts to slowly and methodically wrap it around his arm. It’s slow going, and difficult with only one unsteady hand, but he’s managed worse—

He blinks. Dream’s holding out his hand for the roll of bandages. Techno hesitates, and then drops them into his hand. 

Dream’s fingers are shaking as badly as Techno's but he has two hands, and it’s easy to wrap the cloth around the gouged flesh, tight enough to eventually staunch the bleeding but not so tight it’ll stop his circulation. It probably needs stitches. Techno’s probably never going to get them. 

There are other, smaller scratches, littering Techno’s arms and some across his torso, and one particularly painful one across his knee. He’s only just now starting to feel them. At a glance, Dream’s no better. Techno’s not sure if the wounds are just from the push through the spiders, or the whole ordeal altogether. He doubts he’ll ever really know.

They’re okay, though. They’re okay, and Dream’s breathing is less labored by the second, and there’s iron horse armor and two leather saddles in Techno’s bag, and they’re okay. 

\------------

Techno blinks awake with an aching back and banged-up limbs. He needs to stop doing this. 

He can’t have been asleep for very long, because the gouge on his arm is still bleeding, however slowly, and Dream is still fumbling for his balance as he tries to stand, mask returned to its usual spot (on his face). 

Techno forces himself upward, ignores the way the world tilts on its axis for a second before righting itself properly. 

He raises an eyebrow at Dream—knowing that Dream, of all people, can infer Techno’s expressions. _Shall we?_

Dream just nods. _Please._

\------------

They stumble out into the open air and sunlight, too-bright and warm against Techno’s skin.

“Remind me to never go on any adventures with you ever again,” Techno says, knowing that it’s a lie. 

“Sure,” Dream laughs. “No more.” That’s a lie, too. They’re going to be back at it sooner rather than later, and they both know that.

Technoblade grins. He’s looking forward to it.

(Current injuries notwithstanding, of course. He’s going to get so much revenge for these, once Dream can properly stand up straight.)

**Author's Note:**

> my version of dream really is just a dnd wood elf, huh. no regrets.
> 
> anyhoo. there is no way that the dream team spent that much time with bad as their older brother and didn’t pick up saying “muffin,” accidentally or not. I started unironically saying “snazzy” about a year ago and now most of my family and friends are saying it too, completely against their will, which was my evil plan all along 
> 
> also anime boy technoblade supremacy. this is a no full-pig techno zone. techno deserves to be sephiroth, in this essay I will


End file.
